Unmasked
by wildspiritontheloose
Summary: In a Clan where emotions are strictly forbidden and any talk of the Old Life punishable by death, Nightpaw finds himself apprenticed to the only cat with an ounce of freedom: the truth-teller, a cat chosen by the Masked to keep the history of DarkClan. Yet, Nightpaw doubts the truth in this history, especially when he is visited by a member of the fallen StarClan.
1. allegiances

**/ full summary /**

"It is forbidden for a reason, young one. Love makes you weak, a fraction of yourself. It keeps you from being the best you can be and that is why we must mask it. Ambition, intelligence, strength - now those are qualities that will get you through this harsh life. But being loving, compassionate, kind? Those are the best ways to get yourself killed."

Generations after the Masked Uprising and the fall of StarClan, DarkClan's way of life is no less harsh. Emotions are strictly forbidden and any talk of the Old Life is considered treasonous and punishable by death. It is in this cruel setting that Nightpaw finds himself apprenticed to the only cat with an ounce of freedom: the truth-teller, a cat specifically chosen by the Masked to remember the history of DarkClan.

Yet, Nightpaw doubts the truth in the truth-teller's stories and finds them even harder to reconcile when he is visited by someone he'd been taught no longer exists. Caught between fear and curiosity, the truth-teller's apprentice finds himself stuck between two versions of the Clan's history - two truths where there should only be one.

And he will stop at nothing until the truth is unmasked.

* * *

 **/ allegiances /**

 **leader /** Dawnstar / blue and cream tortoiseshell she-cat with cold amber eyes

 **deputy /** Sleetfur / pale grey tabby tom with amber eyes; _apprentice: Snailpaw_

 **healer /** Cedarheart / brown tabby tom with amber eyes

 **truth-teller /** Hailwatcher / massive white tom with black markings; blue eyes

 **guardians of truth /** Spiderthorn / black tom with amber eyes

Lionmask / large cream tabby tom with amber eyes

Newtfang / ginger tabby tom with hazel eyes

Goosepelt / grey and white tom with green eyes

Pebblefur / grey she-cat with big copper eyes

Mousetail / brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes

Shadowpelt / black she-cat with green eyes

Birchfrost / grey and white she-cat with one blue and one gold eye

 **warriors /** Rowanstorm / brown tabby tom with green eyes

Whitenose / white she-cat with amber eyes

Skunknose / black and white tom with hazel eyes; _apprentice: Minkpaw_

Flintmask / dark grey tom with green eyes; _apprentice: Dapplepaw_

Willowtail / white she-cat with hazel eyes; _apprentice: Cherrypaw_

Marshclaw / tortoiseshell she-cat with copper eyes

Swallowstorm / black and white she-cat with green eyes

Oakshade / brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Pigeonfang / grey and white she-cat with amber eyes

Blackstrike / black tom with golden eyes

Darkwhisker / black tom with hazel eyes

Sprucetail / black she-cat with green eyes

Thistleshade / dark grey she-cat with copper eyes

Smoketalon / dark grey tom with hazel eyes

Jaystrike / dark grey tom with amber eyes

 **apprentices /** Minkpaw / brown tabby she-cat with copper eyes

Snailpaw / brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Cherrypaw / tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes

Dapplepaw / tortoiseshell she-cat with hazel eyes

 **caretakers /** Snowdapple / white she-cat with brown flecks; green eyes

Sedgecloud / brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Maplefeather / tortoiseshell she-cat with hazel eyes

 **kits /** Nightkit / black tom with golden eyes; white markings around eyes

Flamekit / ginger tabby tom with amber eyes

Cinderkit / grey she-cat with hazel eyes

Bramblekit / brown tabby tom with green eyes

Mothkit / grey tabby she-cat with green eyes

Shadekit / black tom with green eyes

Wrenkit / brown tabby and white she-cat with copper eyes


	2. prologue

A cold wind blew through the tall grasses that night, bringing with it the promise of a harsh leafbare. He fluffed his fur up against the cold but kept his eyes trained on the horizon, waiting.

 _They should be back by now,_ he thought. Perhaps the midnight patrol encountered an intruder and that was why they were late. Regardless, he would wait for their return. It was what a good leader did; and, besides that, Heatherfur was on the patrol.

A warm feeling spread through him at the thought of her name. The golden she-cat had captured his heart just when he'd resigned himself to believing he would never find a suitable mate. She was intelligent, strong and a great fighter, all of which were reasons he'd made her his deputy.

The more personal reason, however, was that it brought her closer to him. He had not yet made his feelings known, though at times he felt like his chest might burst from keeping them caged.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the heavy, bright moon above. _Tonight is the night._

A rustling in the grasses behind him distracted him and he turned in time to see a brown and white cat jump up to settle beside him.

"I see common sense has no business where love is concerned," she mewed, flicking his ear with her long tabby tail.

Startled, the tom looked at his medicine cat with widened amber eyes.

She purred. "Heatherfur's a wonderful deputy and a great warrior. It's been obvious to me for a while now that you have feelings for her, Sootstar."

"I suppose they call you Finchwatcher for a reason," he replied.

"I may be more observant than an average cat, but I'm not the only one who has noticed," the older she-cat continued. "I must caution you, though: don't let your affections blind you. You are first and foremost the leader of MoorClan and your loyalties must lie with your Clan and StarClan, not with a she-cat."

Sootstar flinched at her words. "Can I not be loyal to both?"

Finchwatcher did not reply, instead staring up at the full moon. A moment later, a hiss escaped her mouth and she rose, hackles raised and fur on end. Following her gaze, a jolt of fear ran through the MoorClan leader.

"Great StarClan," he murmured. A shadow had passed over the moon, masking its right side. As the two cats watched, the shadow spread and the light coming from the moon dimmed, covering the moor in darkness.

"StarClan prophecied this night," Finchwatcher breathed. "They knew this was going to happen."

Eyes still trained on the slowly vanishing moon, Sootstar did not register the rustling of the grasses until almost too late. The figure jumped at him with claws unsheathed, forcefully knocking him to the ground. The grey and black tom defended himself, raking his claws over the attacker's face.

A yowl from the side told him MoorClan's medicine cat was in a similar predicament. Sootstar struggled to his paws, dealing his attacker a blow heavy enough to knock him to the ground before leaping to defend Finchwatcher. He arrived too late, her howls of pain cut off abruptly moments before he hit her killer.

He plunged his claws into the murderer without a second thought, taking them by surprise. Bringing his weight down on the cat's chest, he heard a satisfying crunch as its body broke and crumbled to the ground.

With his lips curled back, Sootstar glanced down at his kill only to stop dead in his tracks. A wave of cold fear washed over him as he recognized the dead yellow eyes of his brother. Turning to glance at his own attacker, he recognized the grass-coloured pelt of Yewtail, one of his senior warriors.

Dimly, the shocked leader became aware of screeches and battle cries coming from the direction of MoorClan's camp. Touching his nose gently to Finchwatcher's in a silent goodbye, he took off, willing his paws to move faster as the sounds of killing grew louder.

When he arrived, the camp was littered with corpses and washed with blood. In what little light the moon still shone, he caught the tips of retreating tails in the grasses, moving in the direction of the Gathering Place. Only two battling cats remained: Honeyfang, one of his own warriors, and a she-cat he knew to be from SeaClan.

Pouncing, he dragged the SeaClan intruder to the ground, holding her down by the throat and pressing his face into hers.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he hissed. The she-cat's face remained blank, but her eyes were lit by a bloodlust the likes of which Sootstar had never seen.

"Answer me!" he roared. A glint of fear crossed the warrior's face before the blankness returned.

He killed her in a single swipe, a chill running up his spine as her dead eyes stared up at him. Turning, Sootstar surveyed the camp. Honeyfang lay on the ground, wounded sides heaving.

"Finchwatcher, where is she?" the she-cat gasped.

"Dead."

"Then we're all dead," the warrior said quietly. Sootstar listened to her breathing begin to fade until the only sound in the night was that of his frantically beating heart. Scenting the air, he found the scents of all three Clans.

 _A joint attack by SeaClan and RockClan?_ he thought. _The Clans are in a time of peace. Yet there are kits and their mothers killed in their sleep, medicine cats murdered in cold blood..._

The fear grew when he spotted a dull golden pelt amongst the mass of dead bodies. Heart threatening to beat right out of his chest, her name escaped his jaws before he could stop it.

The feeling of relief that spread through him when he saw it was not Heatherfur, but her sister Fawnheart, brought with it the sharp claws of guilt. Finchwatcher's words of caution returned to him but he shook them out of his head, turning in the direction of the Gathering Place.

Complete darkness covered the moor now, the only light the glow of Sootstar's amber eyes as he pelted after the attackers. The scent of MoorClan hit him as he travelled, filling the tom with a sense of hope and confusion. Were MoorClan's attackers taking prisoners? Or were there traitors within MoorClan's ranks? The latter filled him with dread and spurred him forward.

As Sootstar approached High Rocks, the site of the Gathering Place, the scents of all three Clans grew and, with them, the dread plaguing his body. Quietly, he crept closer, leaping lightly onto a low rock where he could remain hidden from view. Voices reached him, low and fast.

"MoorClan?"

"Taken care of."

"SeaClan?"

"Dead or dying."

"And RockClan has been razed to the ground."

A low purr followed the last statement, one that Sootstar knew well. He shook his head, short on breath as the realization came to him.

Claws stabbing into his back brought him back to reality and he screeched in pain as they dragged him from his perch. Teeth buried into his scruff and dragged him out of hiding into the High Rocks clearing.

"Well, well, who do we have here?" Rushclaw, a well-known SeaClan warrior, stepped forward. Through the haze before his eyes, Sootstar could make out the forms of two other cats behind him - the tabby pelt of Robinfang, a young warrior of RockClan, and the golden pelt of his own deputy. Around the clearing stood cats of all three Clans, watching him with blank eyes.

"What is this madness?" Sootstar croaked.

"A rebellion, dear one." Heatherfur's voice floated to him softly, though the words dripped with mockery. "The Clans are weak, too busy taking kittypets and loners into their ranks, crossing borders without consequence and sharing prey and herbs."

"It's a time of peace," he replied.

The she-cat moved forward, walking on silent paws. Her intelligent grey eyes fixed onto his own. "No. It's a time of weakness."

She turned to address the gathered cats. "Tonight is the night!" she cried. "Our frail Clans are no more and we are going to start anew, stronger than ever before! Ambition, intelligence and strength have brought us this far and they will continue to lead us forward in this new era - the Era of DarkClan!"

Her words were met with yowls of approval and Heatherfur pressed forward. "Compassion for outsiders and inter-Clan affections have made us feeble and overthrown our Clan structure. From now on, those feelings will be no more. We will be better than these fools, led astray by their _love_."

Sootstar stared up at Heatherfur, heart twisting sharply as her eyes fell on him once more.

"Look where love brought him." Her jaws twisted into a sneer. "Even StarClan warned you. But you refused to listen."

An image of heather flowers left before his den flashed through Sootstar's mind. He shook his head, refusing to believe her. She was his faithful deputy, she wouldn't go through with this.

The coldness in Heatherfur's grey eyes as she leaned towards him spoke differently.

"Look where love brought you," she whispered. She was so close he could feel their heartbeats beating in time, her warmth pressing into him even as dread filled him with cold.

Her sweet breath washed over him one last time. "It brought you to die."

* * *

 **A/N: Welcome to my brand new story! I've been thinking about this story line for a while now and, since _The Coming Storm_ is currently being stalled by writer's block, I figured I'd start on this one. Let me know what you think!**


	3. chapter 1

"The Clans are no more, Sootstar!"

The shrill cry rose into the warm greenleaf air, startling a group of birds and sending them up into the clear sky, chattering their indignation. Below, their annoyance was echoed in the voice of a kit.

"Why am I always Sootstar?" the grey she-cat whined, pawing at the ginger tom pinning her to the ground.

"Because you're the only one of us with grey fur," the tom replied. "I'm always Heatherfur because she had golden fur, like me." He puffed his chest out proudly.

"Nightkit has black fur and he always plays Robinfang!" the she-cat protested.

"Cinderkit, do you want to play or not?" Cinderkit considered this for a moment before sighing loudly and nodding.

"Alright, Nightkit into position! I'm going to make you the first truth-teller in history right after I get rid of this mangy coward." Flamekit lashed his tail from side to side in excitement, baring his teeth over Cinderkit's throat while she squealed beneath him.

Nightkit, however, paid his littermates no mind. Sitting atop one of the High Rocks that made up DarkClan's camp, he set his eyes on the horizon, yellow eyes shining brightly with curiosity. To the west of High Rocks lay SeaClan's cliffs; to the north RockClan's old forest; and to the east MoorClan's open fields. To the south lay a great expanse of land, ungoverned and wild.

All of this territory belonged to DarkClan now, and had for generations, but Nightkit found his mind wandering to what the Old Life may have looked like when there were three Clans instead of one. The kit did not voice this curiosity out loud, though - he was much too smart for that.

"Nightkit!" The tom turned just in time to see a blur of orange fur barrel into him. They landed on the ground with a thud.

"Pay attention, Robinfang!" Flamekit yowled. "What kind of truth-teller are you, always lost in thought?"

"Flamekit, not so loud!" Cinderkit chided, flicking an ear nervously in the direction of the nursery, but her warning came too late.

A white she-cat with brown flecks emerged from the den, green eyes narrowed at the trio suspiciously. Scars marred her face and sides and she walked with a slight limp.

"Just what do you think you're doing, knocking Nightkit off of that rock like that?" she said sternly. "You could have hurt him!"

"Sorry, Snowdapple," Flamekit said, flicking his tail unconcernedly at the caretaker. The apology sounded hollow to Nightkit's ears but, truthfully, he didn't expect his littermate to apologize at all. Caretakers were the lowest cats in the Clan pecking order. And, besides that, Flamekit was always pushing him around.

The she-cat opened her mouth to continue, but closed it quickly as a shadow fell over them.

"Now, now, Snowdapple, whatever is the matter?" The voice of the new cat dripped like honey, sweet and low but with an undertone of poison.

"Dawnstar," the caretaker said, bowing her head in her leader's direction. "I was just telling Flamekit to be more careful. He knocked Nightkit off of one of the High Rocks."

Dawnstar turned her cold amber gaze to Nightkit and a chill ran down his spine. "He seems like a healthy young kit to me." Snowdapple remained silent, head still bowed.

"We were just pretending to be part of the Masked Uprising," Flamekit piped up innocently. "I was Heatherfur, Cinderkit was playing Sootstar, and Nightkit was supposed to be Robinfang, but he got distracted. That's why I knocked him off the High Rocks."

The leader turned an ear in Flamekit's direction as he spoke but her eyes never left Nightkit's. The black tom shifted nervously but found he could not look away from her mesmerizing gaze.

"You're an observant one, aren't you?" she said. "Casting a watchful eye when others are keen to act?" She flicked her cream and blue tail over Nightkit's cheek as she spoke. "And those markings - rather strange, aren't they?"

Nightkit blinked, knowing Dawnstar referred to the white fur around his eyes. In his otherwise black coat, it looked as if his eyes were lined with snow.

"He's always had those marks," Cinderkit mewed quietly in his defence.

To Nightkit's surprise, Dawnstar purred. "Oh, I know. Perhaps you are meant for a higher purpose." A glimmer appeared in her otherwise cold eyes as she got up to leave.

"Continue your reenactment of the Uprising," she urged before turning to Snowdapple, who cowered before her. "And you. If kits want to play at DarkClan's history, why stop them? Unless, of course, you believe the Old Life was better?"

Immediately, the caretaker shook her head. "Good," Dawnstar said, cuffing the white she-cat's ear with a heavy paw. "Kits will hurt themselves sometimes. Won't be the first time, won't be the last. It'll make them stronger warriors later. But you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?"

Dawnstar curled her lips in a sneer before leaving the caretaker with her charges. The trio of littermates watched the cream and blue tortoiseshell, awe shining in their round kit eyes. She moved with an authority no one else in the Clan could, head held high and tail up.

"So, Robinfang," Flamekit said once Dawnstar disappeared into her den, ignoring Snowdapple's cowering form. "I believe it's time you became our first truth-teller." Nightkit nodded eagerly, focusing his full attention on their game.

"The first truth-teller, you say?" This time, the interrupting voice sounded much friendlier, a strong story-telling voice only one cat in the Clan possessed.

"Hailwatcher!" the kits chorused. The tom twitched his whiskers, dismissing Snowdapple before turning to the kits. He settled his giant body on the ground in one swift movement, white and black spotted pelt gleaming in the sun. Behind him, two guards shadowed his movements.

"So, where were we in the story of the Masked Uprising?" he asked.

"Heatherfur had just killed Sootstar and was about to make Robinfang her truth-teller," Flamekit offered.

"Ah, yes. My favourite part of the story," the old tom said. "Would you like to tell it?"

Before Flamekit could cut in in his usual boisterous manner, Nightkit cut him off. "No, you tell it." His ginger littermate shot him a look of disapproval but Nightkit didn't care. There was something about the way Hailwatcher told his stories that made Nightkit want to listen to them all day.

"Alright," the spotted tom agreed before doing what he did best: telling the history of DarkClan.

"After Heatherfur killed Sootstar, the rebels united the remainders of their Clans. DarkClan, named after the darkness brought by the eclipse on the night of the Masked Uprising, named Heatherfur their leader. She accepted the name Heatherstar, though she did not go to the Moonwaters to receive nine lives, as a show of power against StarClan, who could not defeat someone as great as the leader of DarkClan. All belief in StarClan was eradicated that night, banishing from our lives the warrior ancestors who had led us astray too many times.

"All rebels were offered a place in the new, superior DarkClan, which they readily took. Prisoners of the rebel group were told to renounce their faith in StarClan and leave behind the ideals of the Old Life in exchange for a place within DarkClan's ranks. Many took the offer, but many others held fast to their beliefs. Heatherstar and Rushclaw, now her deputy, put a quick end to that poisonous lot.

"The Clan grew in size and strength then. New kits were born to pairs of warriors chosen specially by Heatherstar for their admirable qualities. The cats deemed unworthy of holding warrior status were made caretakers in order to care for the kits when their mothers returned to their warrior duties. In this way, Heatherstar ensured that there was no room for affection to grow.

"Yet, DarkClan's ranks continued to display rebellious behaviour. Heatherstar wondered if the past was not enough to keep them from treason and decided she needed to remind the Clan of the weaknesses of love more frequently. She needed someone who would keep the history of DarkClan, remembering it faithfully and passing it on to future generations."

"Robinfang!" Flamekit cut in. Nightkit sharply covered his littermate's mouth with his tail, never once taking his eyes off of Hailwatcher.

"That's right. She named Robinfang the first truth-teller the next day, giving her the name Robinwatcher for her observant nature. It became Robinwatcher's task to remain alert for signs of treason and to warn the Clan of the consequences.

"She told stories at every ceremony and visited the kits in the nursery to teach them from a young age the dangers of love - just as I do now. And when Robinwatcher grew old and grey, she took on an apprentice, a kit born with strange markings on his fur.

"He swore an oath on the day of his apprenticeship: 'Let my mouth be an outlet for the truths of DarkClan, my eyes a careful witness to treason, and my claws a testament to the consequences of betrayal'. She taught him the history of DarkClan and told him stories of treason, and when she had taught him all there was to know she left the Clan to spend her last days alone.

"Thornwillow continued Robinwatcher's legacy, passing on knowledge to the next truth-teller, and that truth-teller to the next; and so it was, up until today where I stand before you."

Nightkit realized a hush had fallen upon the entire Clan as Hailwatcher finished his story, warriors and kits alike entranced by the telling. Slowly, the truth-teller rose to his paws, his guards following suit, and made his way over to the Speaking Stone, where Dawnstar patiently waited.

"A story all of us know well," she began. "One that tells us of our beginnings, our values, the power brought to us by pushing aside the Old Life. That power continues today in the strength of our loyal warriors, attentive truth-teller and, of course, the future of the Clan: our kits."

The black tom felt a shiver run through him as he realized what Dawnstar's words meant. Beside him, Flamekit shook in anticipation and Cinderkit drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

"Flamekit, you are of age to become an apprentice. It is my hope that Rowanstorm's steadiness will quiet your boisterous nature and transform it into a lust for power and loyalty to DarkClan. You may join your mentor."

The ginger tom rose in a dignified manner, approaching the large tabby warrior confidently. Rowanstorm acknowledged him with a nod before turning back to Dawnstar.

"Cinderkit, you will be apprenticed to Marshclaw. May her ferocity dull your softness and make you a powerful and quick warrior of DarkClan. Join your mentor now."

Cinderkit was more hesitant than her littermate, turning to look at Nightkit with large eyes. He purred his encouragement and watched as the she-cat joined her tortoiseshell mentor on the other side of the camp.

This left Nightkit alone before the nursery, all of DarkClan's eyes on him. His heart thumped in his chest wildly as he searched through the crowd, wondering which pair of eyes belonged to the cat who would mentor him.

"Nightkit, step forward." Shakily, the black tom got to his paws, moving through the Clan's ranks before being stopped right before Hailwatcher.

"You are marked, Nightkit, and for this reason your apprenticeship will take a different form. Hailwatcher grows old and tired while you are only now beginning to flourish. Let the truth-teller teach you all he knows so that Robinwatcher's legacy may continue through you."

Nightkit looked up at his new mentor, shocked. The truth-teller nodded, eyes focused questioningly on the young tom before him.

Swallowing, the black kit realized what he needed to do. Remembering the words from the truth-teller's tale, he closed his eyes and said: "Let my mouth be an outlet for the truths of DarkClan, my eyes a careful witness to treason, and my claws a testament to the consequences of betrayal."

Silence, then: "Let Nightpaw carry on the truth-teller's post long after I am gone." Blinking open his eyes, Nightkit saw warmth in Hailwatcher's as he regarded his apprentice.

"Welcome to the ranks of DarkClan!" Dawnstar cried. "Now, back to your duties."

The Clan dispersed quickly, leaving Nightpaw and Hailwatcher alone amongst the High Rocks. The black tom felt his body ache as the adrenaline left him but remained still, awaiting orders from his mentor.

When the black and white tom rose to his paws without a word, Nightpaw followed.


	4. chapter 2

A kestrel wheeled overhead as the truth-teller and his apprentice set off from the DarkClan camp. Behind them, silent as owls, trailed two others - a grey she-cat and a ginger tom.

Nightpaw followed his mentor as best as he could, taking two rather large bounds for every one of Hailwatcher's massive steps. The small tom soon found himself short of breath, but he dared not complain.

The scorched earth of the moors burned the apprentice's unblemished pads and the grasses that rose up around him tickled and scratched his soft fur. If not for the truth-teller's aggressive pace, Nightpaw might have stopped to observe the scenery around him, innate curiosity driving him to explore the furthest reaches of DarkClan territory. The apprentice felt disappointment join his weariness as the patrol continued deeper into the moors, but he did not complain of this either.

Finally, the truth-teller came to a stop in a clearing where a large stone stood amongst the tallest grasses. Bunching his legs beneath him, he sprang onto it. The sun gave the giant tom's white and black fur a strange glow as he turned to Nightpaw.

"Do you know where we are?" Hailwatcher asked.

Nightpaw, who stood at the foot of the tall rock, turned his head slowly, observing the clearing. All around the rock were holes, big enough for the apprentice to move through.

"Is this where MoorClan's camp used to be?" the black tom asked.

"Very good," his mentor replied. "How do you know that?"

Eager to show off his knowledge, Nightpaw said, "The holes in the ground. MoorClan had their camp underground in a maze of burrows and tunnels."

"And how do you know that?" Hailwatcher's question took Nightpaw aback. The truth-teller's eyes narrowed into blue slits as he waited for Nightpaw's answer.

"Your stories," the apprentice replied. "When my littermates and I were three moons old you started off by telling us about the rebels and their homes." Nightpaw felt the tension in his shoulders build as he gazed up at his mentor, wondering what he might have said to warrant Hailwatcher's reaction.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the massive tom gave him a nod, whiskers twitching happily.

"I don't mean to frighten you, Nightpaw," Hailwatcher began, landing on the ground beside his apprentice. "That was more of a test, to see how attentive you were as a kit to the history of DarkClan. I see you know the basics of our history well."

The tom padded past Nightpaw, heading further in to the moors. Confused, the apprentice got up to follow.

Their trek through the grasses brought them to a dusty clearing. Hailwatcher sat himself in the centre, gesturing for Nightpaw to sit before him. With another wave of his spotted tail, he dismissed the silent she-cat and tom.

When they were alone, Hailwatcher continued. "The job of a truth-teller requires attentiveness. While our main task is to keep the history of DarkClan, we are also the enforcers of DarkClan's code. Treason is unacceptable and we, as the most watchful of the Clan, are expected to see this in our Clanmates."

Nightpaw's eyes shone with admiration as he remembered the words he'd spoken to Hailwatcher earlier: "Let my mouth be an outlet for the truths of DarkClan, my eyes a careful witness to treason, and my claws a testament to the consequences of betrayal." He felt honoured to hold such an important role in his Clan.

"Do you know who they are?" Hailwatcher asked next, waving his tail in the general direction of the cats who had accompanied them there.

"I think the she-cat's name is Pebblefur," Nightpaw replied. "The tom... I've seen him before, but I can't remember his name."

The truth-teller purred. "Yes, they are Pebblefur and Newtfang. But do you know why they are here?"

Nightpaw hesitated, thinking back to Hailwatcher's nursery visits. Back when he was three moons old, he would always wonder why the truth-teller was followed around by two different cats every day. They never spoke, only watched the truth-teller's every move, as if waiting for him to strike.

"No," the apprentice replied honestly. Something like disappointment flashed across Hailwatcher's face.

Not wanting to disappoint his new mentor, Nightpaw scrambled for a different answer. "I mean, they're always with you. But they can't be your apprentices... Maybe they're protecting you?"

This time, Nightpaw was rewarded with a purr, the beginnings of pride glinting in Hailwatcher's blue eyes.

"Correct. They are my guardians, the guardians of truth. There are eight in the Clan, always kept in pairs and relieved of their shift every two sunhighs. When not guarding me, they are like regular warriors."

"But why would you need protection?" Nightpaw asked before he could stop himself. "I mean, you're the most important member of the Clan."

Hailwatcher regarded him for a moment with troubled eyes. "Do you remember what happened to Thornwillow?"

Nightpaw struggled to remember, but his knowledge of DarkClan's second truth-teller did not yield any answers. Sadly, he shook his head.

"Thornwillow was attacked in the middle of the night by supporters of the Old Life," the truth-teller explained. "They believed him to be the source of DarkClan's evil after Heatherstar died and Bearstar replaced her. The supporters would have killed Thornwillow had it not been for - "

"Ravenfrost!" Nightpaw cried, suddenly remembering the stories of the first guardian. "He killed all of the traitors in four swipes of his giant claws and showed no hint of regret."

"Correct again," Hailwatcher said, purring deeply. He got to his paws, shaking the dust out of his long fur. Nightpaw moved to follow but was stopped with a flick of his mentor's ear.

"Do you know why you were chosen to be my apprentice?" the giant tom asked.

"Because of my marks," Nightpaw replied in a heartbeat, blinking his white-rimmed eyes.

The apprentice felt a shiver run through him as the truth-teller's powerful tail wrapped around his small body, bringing the little tom closer. Hailwatcher leaned close to Nightpaw's ear, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Let me tell you a secret only Dawnstar and I know," he said. "The tradition of marked truth-tellers goes back to the ways of the Old Life, which only we know. Back then, marked kits were considered weak, rejected by StarClan's ranks. They were considered less worthy than their pure counterparts because the ancestors had marred their appearance."

Nightpaw felt his heart sink as Hailwatcher spoke. He thought about his littermates - Cinderpaw, with her pristine grey coat, and Flamepaw, with his broad shoulders and fiery pelt.

"But we are not ruled by StarClan's rulings," the truth-teller continued. "They have no power over us when we deny their ways. And that, Nightpaw, is why you were chosen. In the Old Life, your marks would have meant you are lesser; in this life, you are great."

 _I am great_ , Nightpaw thought, golden eyes shining in the light of the quickly setting sun.

"That's all for today, I believe," Hailwatcher said, pulling back from Nightpaw. "I'm sure this has been quite an eventful day for both of us and we should both rest before your apprenticeship truly begins."

Disappointment flickered through the black tom but he nodded all the same, knowing he shouldn't defy his superior. He has seen enough of that as a kit to know the consequences. Mutely, he followed Hailwatcher as the tom set off in the direction of the DarkClan camp. Seemingly out of nowhere, they were again joined by the guardians of truth.

It was only when they were nearing camp and the sky had turned dark that Hailwatcher turned to Nightpaw once more. "You did well today. I can see you will be a very good listener and an avid pursuer of knowledge."

Even through the sleepy haze in his brain, Nightpaw knew this praise was not easily won.

"But I must warn you that this role is very solitary. It would be best if you did not mention the details of your training to anyone."

"Not even my littermates?" Nightpaw asked.

"No, not even them. You are a truth-teller now and you must put all personal attachments aside. You serve the Clan. Watch, listen, remember."

"Watch, listen, remember," the apprentice repeated, swallowing back the hurt that suddenly rose within him.

/

The sound of soft breathing filled the apprentice den when Nightpaw entered it. Carefully, he stepped over the sleeping forms of the older apprentices and slid into a corner of the bramble structure, making himself comfortable beside the ginger fur of his littermate.

"Nightpaw!" The black tom pricked a curious ear at the sound of Cinderpaw's voice. She lay curled up on the other side of Flamepaw. In a hushed voice, she said, "How was your first day of training?"

The truth-teller's apprentice hesitated, remembering Hailwatcher's warning. Yet, his mentor had not forbidden him from speaking more generally about his day.

"Hailwatcher showed me the moors," Nightpaw replied. "We talked about the history of DarkClan." Cinderpaw opened her mouth, as if to ask further questions, but was cut off by Flamepaw.

"Rowanstorm took me to the Tall Oak in the forest and showed me a couple of battle moves," he mewed sleepily. "Look, I even have a scratch to prove it!" Uncurling himself, the ginger tom showed off a small nick in his shoulder.

"It almost looks like the scar all the warriors have on their shoulder," Cinderpaw whispered, impressed. "I didn't do anything nearly as exciting as that. Marshclaw took me hunting in the forest."

Flamepaw snorted. "More exciting than sitting around and talking about DarkClan." He flicked his tail at Nightpaw.

The black tom flinched slightly, hurt by Flamepaw's comment. "Just because you don't have the attention span to sit and listen doesn't mean I don't," he hissed. "There's a reason I was picked to be the truth-teller's apprentice."

The larger apprentice cocked his head to the side. "I'm not marked. You are. Doesn't make you that special."

Nightpaw began to protest, but Flamepaw wasn't listening. The tom rose from his nest, stretching, before flopping back down and curling himself into a ball. "I'm going to sleep now. Long day of training tomorrow." Within seconds, Flamepaw was asleep.

"Don't be mad," Cinderpaw mewed, a soft look in her hazel eyes. "You know what he's like."

The black tom didn't reply, only nodding his head before slipping out into the night air. His paws ached from his trip to the moors and his eyelids were heavy with sleep, but he knew the dull throb in his heart would prevent him from sleeping just yet.

Instead, he tilted his head back, white-rimmed eyes staring up at the sky above where a single golden star had broken through the otherwise dark blanket of night. All alone, it shone down on the DarkClan camp.

 _I wonder if stars get lonely,_ Nightpaw thought.


	5. chapter 3

The first cold wind of the season blew through High Rocks the next morning, waking Nightpaw from his slumber. Blinking his eyes open, he realized he must have fallen asleep outside of the apprentice den.

"I see you're awake," said a deep voice from above him and Nightpaw shot up into a sitting position, whiskers twitching in embarrassment as he met the blue eyes of his mentor.

"Yes, Hailwatcher," he yawned.

"I didn't think our training yesterday was that tiring," Hailwatcher replied. "Luckily for you, today will be much easier."

The black tom's ears pricked with excitement. Though his paws still ached from the long walk into the moors yesterday, he was eager to explore more of DarkClan's territory.

"You'll be cleaning out the dens," the truth-teller explained. "Stick to the camp unless you're gathering moss. Don't go too far into the forest; there should be enough moss on the trees nearest the river." Hailwatcher nodded his head, pleased with the instructions he'd given, and left.

Nightpaw stared after his mentor, disappointment welling in him. What would he tell Flamepaw and Cinderpaw of his day tonight?

As if on cue, Cinderpaw emerged from the apprentice den, giggling at Nightpaw's dishevelled appearance. "Good morning, sleepy head." She headed off across the camp clearing to where Marshclaw stood waiting.

All around Nightpaw, the cats of DarkClan assembled themselves into patrols under Sleetfur's commands, moving out of camp swiftly to attend to their duties. Before long, the black tom sat by himself with only the sounds of the kits and caretakers for company.

Sighing, he started on his task. Crossing the river that divided High Rocks from the forest in three quick hops, Nightpaw found himself surrounded by tall oaks and aspens, hues of red and yellow bleeding into their greenery. Sharp needles poked into his fur as he searched for signs of moss.

He found some quickly, not far from the river just as Hailwatcher had promised, its surface still covered with the shiny dew of the morning. Unsheathing his claws, Nightpaw raked them over the soft green plant, watching the tendrils fall to the ground. He spent until sunhigh collecting, piling the moss higher and higher.

Satisfied with his work, he clamped as much moss as possible in his jaws, turning back to look at the forest's colourful beauty one more time before making his way back to camp.

And so began the first day of many boring apprentice tasks. The first he spent collecting moss; the second changing the bedding in each den; the third repairing the holes in the roof of the warrior's den; the fourth patching up the nursery.

"What are you doing?" asked Bramblekit as the apprentice wove a branch into the covering of the nursery.

"Repairing your den," Nightpaw replied bluntly. He was in no mood to speak to anyone, especially after Flamepaw's teasing remarks the previous night. While he was stuck doing every menial task possible, his littermates were learning to fight tooth and claw and hunting on every foxlength of DarkClan's territory.

"We can see that," Shadekit said matter-of-factly. Nightpaw narrowed his eyes at her before noticing Sedgecloud, one of the caretakers, watching him. The older tom seemed uncomfortable, shoulders tense and fur not quite flat.

"Once you're apprentices, you'll probably be doing the same thing," Nightpaw snapped back instead, patience wearing thin. How much longer would he be stuck with these tasks before he returned to actual truth-teller's training? His paw pushed the stick in place a little too harshly and he heard it snap under the pressure. The four kits watching him squealed as broken pieces of wood rained down on them.

"Watch it!" Sedgecloud said, wrapping his tail protectively around the kits.

Nightpaw turned, a tired snarl on his jaws, only to find the brown tabby cowering before him. The apprentice, taken aback, mumbled an apology, sweeping up the remains of the branch and returning silently to his task, all the while aware of the caretaker's untrusting gaze.

A quarter moon later, after another seven sunrises of being confined to the camp, Nightpaw was called to Hailwatcher's den. The hollowed out log sat to one edge of the camp, isolated from the other dens. The black tom arrived to find his mentor sitting atop it.

"Follow me," the truth-teller said without preamble.

Nightpaw shadowed his mentor, crossing the river one step behind him, their two guardians - this time a massive cream tabby and a much smaller black she-cat - keeping pace. Hailwatcher padded through the forest confidently, spotted pelt matching the speckled leaves of the trees.

Sunhigh was approaching when they reached a ravine. If Nightpaw hadn't been following his mentor closely, he might have walked right off the edge; the ground fell away suddenly, leafy forest floor giving way to harsh rock. A fallen tree hung off the edge of the cliff, dangling precariously by its roots into the chasm below.

The apprentice watched with large eyes as Hailwatcher leaped up onto the fallen tree in one graceful spring, moving two foxlengths along it before turning back to look at Nightpaw. Swallowing, the little tom moved to follow.

He scrabbled up onto the trunk, pelt burning at his lack of grace. His claws immediately plunged into the dry bark of the dead tree, keeping him from sliding off. Once he'd caught his balance, Nightpaw took a deep breath and inched his way down the fallen tree's length.

In front of him, Hailwatcher landed on the ground with a soft thud and Nightpaw followed quickly, wary of falling off as the trunk vibrated under the paw steps of the two guardians. They dropped down behind him, automatically moving to flank him on either side. Hailwatcher, observing the trio, nodded his head in approval.

"You may hunt while we talk," the truth-teller said.

"If something attacks you, we'll be here," the cream tabby replied, voice a deep rumble. With a nod to the truth-teller, the guardians turned east, moving in sync. Nightpaw watched them in admiration, the way their paws moved in rhythm and their tails swayed in time as they walked.

"Where are we, Nightpaw?" Hailwatcher asked.

Nightpaw had known the answer to that question since they'd entered the forest. "RockClan's old camp."

The truth-teller nodded his head in agreement. "Over there was the leader's den," he continued, pointing to a hollowed out log with his long tail. "And there was the warriors den. That large cave in the cliff housed the nursery. And that little bramble den was for the apprentices."

The apprentice nodded, repeating the names of the dens under his breath as he looked at each in turn. The RockClan leader's den reminded him of Hailwatcher's back at High Rocks, while the bramble den reminded him of DarkClan's nursery.

"What about the medicine and elders' dens?" he asked, remembering that the Clans had different ranks in the Old Life. The tom was curious to know as much as possible about the time before the Masked Uprising.

When he turned to his mentor, he realized it had not been a proper question to ask. "We do not speak of those ranks," Hailwatcher hissed, making Nightpaw shrink back. "Elders weaken the Clan - warriors should either die in battle or end their own lives once they are too old to be of use to the Clan. And medicine cats are too prone to compassion and sympathy, which violates all DarkClan stands for. Their history with StarClan also makes them dangerous."

Nightpaw nodded, hoping to show the truth-teller that he was ready to learn anything the tom was willing to tell him.

Hailwatcher's gaze softened as he noticed this. "But those are stories for another time. I brought you here to tell you about a certain caretaker." The apprentice nearly had to force his fur to lie flat as he thought back to Sedgecloud's strange reaction just over a quarter moon prior.

The truth-teller settled on the ground, stretching out his paws before him to make himself comfortable. Nightpaw remained sitting, wanting to look alert and attentive.

"Four season cycles ago, when Owlstar still led DarkClan, a loner began to wander our territory. DarkClan warriors attempted to catch him or kill him to get rid of the threat he posed to our Clan, but he evaded them skillfully and fought fiercely if caught. So fiercely, in fact, that he killed Gingertail, Owlstar's deputy.

"Owlstar called for a deputy race to replace Gingertail, and three brave toms stepped forward: Rabbitnose, Redclaw and Batwhisker. Rabbitnose was the eldest, the most experienced; Redclaw was a fierce warrior and incredibly ambitious; Batwhisker was just over two season cycles old but full of fire.

"Now, as you know, the deputy race consists of four parts: a fighting and hunting assessment, an interview by the leader and truth-teller, constant monitoring to show they are able to mask their emotions, and a final test to ensure they can rule without mercy.

"Batwhisker fell out of the race early on, dying of battle wounds shortly after the fighting assessment. Rabbitnose and Redclaw moved on, using their time between assessments to find an opponent for the final test.

"It was Redclaw who found the loner who had killed Gingertail. He knocked the tom unconscious with a rock and dragged his body back to camp, keeping him prisoner until the time of the final assessment drew near."

"Is it tradition to have the candidates battle a loner for the final test?" Nightpaw interrupted, never having seen a deputy race before.

Hailwatcher shook his head. "No, but the candidates are expected to find themselves a prisoner. Loners, rogues, kittypets that wander our territory. If they are unable to find one, they are pitted against a prisoner of the Clan, sometimes even a warrior who has displeased the leader."

Nightpaw's eyes widened, but he did not comment. Hailwatcher took this as a sign to continue.

"One cat did exactly that the day of the final assessment. She was a caretaker, in charge of Dawnkit and Sandkit, and she took care of them well enough for a cat who had failed her warrior assessment. Milkfeather, however, made a fatal mistake the day of the final test by disobeying Owlstar's orders.

"As Redclaw prepared to fight the loner, Milkfeather began to doubt Owlstar's instructions to let the kits watch the bloodbath. She feared they were too young to watch such proceedings, too innocent to understand what was happening.

"But Owlstar believed that kits should be taught about battle and death from the earliest age, to prepare them for life in the Clan. They would be fierce, strong and tough warriors if they understood killing and were able to watch it done at three moons old.

"As the fighting began, Milkfeather drew Sandkit back into the nursery, telling her to close her eyes against the horrors of the battle. Her intention was to return for Dawnkit and do the same, but Owlstar reached the kit first.

"Redclaw killed the loner to cheers from the Clan and Rabbitnose stepped forward, ready to take on a prisoner he'd selected. Just as he was about to leap, Owlstar pushed Milkfeather out before the candidate instead, forcing the caretaker to fight or be killed.

"Rabbitnose finished her off in three quicks moves and Milkfeather's punishment served as a warning to the Clan: obey the leaders orders, whatever they may be, or pay the death price."

Nightpaw blinked at the rather abrupt ending to the story. "What happened to the kits?"

Hailwatcher purred, as if he'd known this question would be asked. "Sandkit, who did not watch the killings, failed her warrior assessment and became a caretaker - Sandfeather. Owlstar named her after Milkfeather to remind the Clan of the caretaker's mistake.

"Dawnkit, however, had watched the killings and seen her caretaker die at the claws of a warrior. She went on to become one of the greatest warriors of DarkClan, even partaking in a deputy race herself. She rose higher and higher, until - "

"Dawnstar," Nightpaw breathed, mind filled with an image of the proud and fierce she-cat.

The truth-teller nodded once more. "Milkfeather's sympathy exposed Sandkit to weakness and, in turn, resulted in her failure. Dawnkit grew to become our leader, untouched by affection. Milkfeather's story teaches us that obeying orders is of utmost importance when it comes to being part of DarkClan. Without question, without complaints."

Hailwatcher gave Nightpaw a pointed look and the apprentice lowered his head guiltily, remembering his past half moon of confinement to camp. While he did as told, his grumbles and sour mood indicated his dissatisfaction with the tasks he was given.

"I hope you will prove yourself more obedient in the future," the spotted tom said.

Nightpaw nodded, understanding the truth-teller's lesson. Yet, he found there to be a question about Milkfeather's story rattling about his head that he could not ignore. Taking a deep breath, he decided to find an answer to it.

"Hailwatcher," Nightpaw began tentatively. "If exposing kits to weakness at a young age results in their failure, then why do the weakest cats of DarkClan take care of the kits?"

The large tom hesitated. "The caretakers are cats who have failed their warrior assessment, which makes them unfit to hunt or fight for the Clan. As you know, cats who fail their warrior test are either killed or made caretakers. By being chosen to take care of the Clans young, rather than put to death, the caretakers are given a second chance to prove themselves as worthy of being part of DarkClan's ranks. Their job is not to provide love to the kits but to keep a watchful eye on them to ensure they grow to become strong apprentices. Any form of attachment is a weakness.

"If they do show some form of weakness, they are either killed or imprisoned, and the kits shown this weakness either follow that path, which means they were weak to begin with, or learn from their caretakers' mistakes and grow to become fine warriors."

"Then why don't the birth mothers of the kits take care of them?" Nightpaw asked before he could stop himself.

Hailwatcher fixed him with a piercing stare. "Have you not been listening, Nightpaw?"

The apprentice racked his brain, trying to please his mentor once more. The thought he searched for hung just out of reach and no matter how hard the little tom tried, it flitted away from him grasp. He bowed his head in defeat.

"Attachment, Nightpaw," Hailwatcher said. "Any form of attachment is a weakness." The words pounded into Nightpaw's head and he vowed to never forget them.

Hailwatcher got to his paws, shaking out his long fur before signalling Nightpaw to follow. As they travelled up the fallen tree to higher ground, the apprentice suddenly remembered another question he had after the abrupt ending of the story.

"Hailwatcher, who won the deputy race?"

The truth-teller did not even turn to face his apprentice. "That wasn't the point of the lesson, now, was it?"

 **/ This is the last part of this particular story I will be uploading on FFN's interface. If you would like to continue reading, come visit me on Wattpad under Sparrowheart838 where Unmasked if updated weekly, every Sunday!**


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